


The Geiszler-Gottlieb Theorem

by musicofthespheres



Series: The Geiszler-Gottlieb Theorem [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drift - Freeform, M/M, Movie Continuation, Post-Movie, warning for trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt and Hermann get transferred to a prestigious university in the US, where they have their own lab and students. After participating in a study that intends to discover other uses for Pons technology, things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this months ago and then I abruptly stopped. I forget who gave me the prompt "Hugs," but there's no way I meant for the ficlet it was supposed to be to explode into this monstrosity. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. There will be a sequel/continuation. (Please don't mind the formatting, I can't seem to fix it.)

Hermann is not allergic to touching, as much as he knows Newt would like to think so. He was just raised differently, that’s all.

“Herm!” Newt yells, bounding into the lab one morning three months after the breach closes. Hermann tenses.

“What?” he hisses. “I’m busy.” He barely has time to brace himself before Newton’s arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into an embrace. Hermann doesn’t squawk, most certainly not, but the sound that leaves his mouth is strangled.

Once Newton lets go, Hermann steps back and straightens out his jacket. “Pardon me,” he says primly. “But what seems to be the cause for such an unprofessional display of… of…” he manages before Newt cuts him off.

“We’re being transferred!” he shouts gleefully, fists in the air. “They’re giving us a team of lackeys and our own workspace and we’re getting _out of this hell hole_!”

Hermann takes a moment to process this information. “Lackeys?” he finally asks.

“Yeah! They’ll be in the general lab, but we get our own work space and we get to tell them what to do and they want us to teach and isn’t that amazing?”

“I suppose that is good news,” Hermann concedes, before turning back to his equations.

“What? That’s it? No celebrating?” Newt asks. “Really?”

Hermann glances at him sidelong. “I believe I removed all need to _celebrate_ from my system after the breach closed, Dr. Geiszler,” he says quietly.

Newt takes the hint and backs off. It had been a good couple of nights, absolutely. With enough alcohol circulating the Dome to keep everyone at least a little inebriated, hands wandered. There was no shame in it, Newt said. But Hermann thought otherwise, and they didn’t speak of it again at his request.

“I didn’t mean _that,_ ” Newt says from his side of the Line of Demarcation. “I just thought we could have a celebratory dinner. No alcohol involved.”

Hermann doesn’t see the need. This is merely another transfer in a long line of them, but he knows that Newt despises it here.

The Drift has done something to them. Hermann doesn’t quite know what, but he thinks he likes it. For all the time Newt has worn his heart on his sleeve, there was so much that he didn’t show. Hermann still doesn’t know everything, but at least he’s better-inclined to understand all the idiosyncrasies of his lab partner.

“Very well,” he says after some deliberation, and cringes when Newt cheers way too loudly.

\---

Dinner is nice. They go to a little waterfront restaurant that just reopened after extensive repairs, and it’s just… _nice_.

And so what if Hermann orders a glass of wine.

\---

The Shatterdome no longer buzzes with the activity of months ago. The remains of the Jaegers were sent to Oblivion Bay, and much of the staff has moved elsewhere. The time approaches for the K-Science team to leave as well.

“Dr. Geiszler, please focus on the task at hand,” Hermann grumbles at his lab partner, who’s been distracted by one of the hired hands. She’s beautiful, Hermann notes, not without a small hint of jealousy sparking the back of his mind.

Newt turns back to him and grins sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, and helps Hermann lift the last of the crates onto the truck. Their things are to be shipped ahead of them, and will await their arrival.

“Come, we do not want to be late.” Hermann hoists his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the cab waiting to take them to the airport.

“Wait up!” Newt calls, and takes off after him.

\---

There’s a delay in their housing arrangements, and the university where they’ve been transferred puts them up in a hotel for a week. Single room, two beds.

“As far as it is possible, please try to behave for the next seven days,” Hermann sighs when they drop their bags of clothing on their beds. He looks forward to finally having an apartment to himself, even if it is in the same building as Newton’s.

Newt pretends to be dramatic and sighs loudly. “Fiiiine,” he says, rolling his eyes theatrically. He flops down on his bed and pulls out his tablet.

After a welcome period of silence, Newt pipes up again. “Did you know that the university is installing a Pons system?”

“Are they,” Hermann replies, semi-absently due to having his nose buried in his notes. Newt says something else, but he doesn’t pay attention.

“Hmm.”

“Dude, are you even listening?”

Hermann looks up to find Newt staring at him expectantly.

“They’re looking for candidates who have experience with it for some neural studies. If at all possible, partners who have Drifted together in the past. I think we should do it.”

Hermann blinks. “You would… want to Drift again? With me?” he asks warily.

“Um, duh!” Newt says. “Do you know how much easier it is to work with you now that I know what makes you tick?”

Hermann looks at his hands.

“Seriously, man, come here,” Newt’s saying. Suddenly there’s a hand on his wrist, tugging him up.

“What are you…?” Hermann asks as Newt hugs him. The part of his mind that’s still connected to his lab partner, albeit faintly, buzzes with warmth.

When the other man doesn’t let go, Hermann awkwardly pats his back. “Why are you hugging me,” he asks eventually, when his mind catches up to his actions.

“Because you look like you could use one. Or several. You know,” Newt grins when they finally break apart. “Touching won’t kill you.”

Hermann sits back down. “That does not mean I always welcome it. Although that was… pleasant.”

\---

Hermann gladly accepts the larger lab they’ve been given. The Line is no longer even necessary; he has his own cubicle, and Newt seems content just to have all the samples they’ve given him to work with. The study begins in two months. Plenty of time to get settled in his new surroundings.

Sometimes he comes in later than Newton does and there’s already a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea on his desk. He pretends not to be overly happy about it and Newt pretends that he doesn’t notice. They both know the truth.

Throughout the next month, Hermann begins finding stashes of candy everywhere. A pile of jelly beans here, a bag of jolly ranchers there.

One day he even walks in to find a gigantic bag of Hershey’s kisses on his desk. Newt must hear him muttering about “inferior American chocolate” because he calls across the lab, “You can’t lie to me anymore, dude. I’ve been inside your head! I know you love that stuff.” And perhaps that much is true. Hermann pretends that it takes a lot of effort to eat one, but he enjoys it. He really does.

\---

“Do we need to re-establish boundaries?” he sighs one drizzly morning after a terrible night’s sleep. He’s found four bags of assorted candy on his side already, a few wrappers, and _Gott im Himmel, Newton, is that a_ kaiju-shaped _chocolate bar?_

Newt gulps. “Uh. No. I just thought that maybe… ah, never mind,” he says, sighing and turning back to the assortment of entrails on his work table.

“You thought what?” Hermann wants an explanation for this behaviour, as it never occurred in Hong Kong.

“I thought maybe you’d want some,” Newt says, back still turned.

Oh. Well. To save face, Hermann grumbles, “You left wrappers all over the place.”

“I won’t do that anymore,” Newt says, and it’s as easy as that.

\---

The first day of the study, Newt shows up at Hermann’s door at the bright and early hour of 6 am. “Thought I’d give you a ride,” he explains when Hermann gives him a disdainful once-over. “On my motorcycle,” he adds, realizing that he’s clad in a leather jacket.

Hermann gawks at him. “When did you acquire a _motorcycle_?” he asks.

“Last week. It’s been a while since I had one, so I thought I’d get another.”

“I will take transit, thank you.”

Newt pouts. “But I brought an extra helmet for you! I’m an excellent driver, I promise.”

“If you think that you will get me onto one of those… those… _death trap_ s, then you are sorely mistaken,” Hermann says resolutely.

Newt raises his eyebrows, face suddenly passive. “And yet you’d drift with a kaiju brain under far more dangerous circumstances.”

“Yes, well, the world was ending,” Hermann huffs.

“Come on. There’s no traffic on the road.”

It takes a lot of cajoling and bribery, Hermann is ashamed to admit, but he eventually agrees. The air chills him thoroughly this early in the morning and he belatedly wishes he brought a windbreaker. They make it to the lab in one piece, and Hermann thinks it must be a miracle.

“I told you I’m a good driver,” Newt says as they walk up the steps. “You can stop shaking. Unless you’re cold, in which case, shake till your heart’s content, I guess.” The building was a lot warmer when they walked inside, much to Hermann’s relief.

“Hello, Dr. Gottlieb, Dr. Geiszler,” the program administrator, Dr. Ivers, greets them. Newt doesn’t even pipe up with his standard _Call me Newt_ , and Hermann might be a little impressed.

“This way, please.”

They’re led through a hallway that Hermann has never been down before.

“We’ll just do a little bit of paper work and verbal interviewing before we get started with the Pons,” Dr. Ivers says as he pushes through double doors.

\---

Hermann stares down at the form, pen in his left hand.

_It will be fine, Hermann. It’s just some questions._

Name, Date of Birth, City of Birth, Occupation. _Easy._

Drifted before? _Yes._

If yes, how often? _Once._

Date of last Drift. Name of Drifting partner(s).

He nearly drops the pen when he reads the last one.

Relationship to Drifting partner(s).

_Colleague,_ he writes. And smiles. Those who are merely colleagues do not hug each other. He would blame it on Newton, but he’s never seen the man so much as touch another human being for more than a handshake or a quick clap on the shoulder. _And friend_ , he adds.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dr. Ivers says when they’re finished. There are a few others in the room that Hermann recognizes from the early days of the Jaeger program. The ones who tested the mechanism but were never actually inside the Jaegers themselves. Rangers Becket and Mori politely declined, at least for this study. They need the time to recover. Marshal Hansen has a position to uphold, and most other pilots, the ones who had lost partners, were simply not willing.

They go through an individual interviewing process, recorded for posterity, and then it’s time.

“We’re not going to ask you to enter the Drift without the bond needed to create a proper neural bridge. You are free to leave at any time. There are medical personnel standing by in case the neural load ever becomes too much.”

Each pair has a handler. Theirs is a sweet young woman named Ayla Moran. She’s a grad student and shows unprecedented efficiency in her work. Hermann thinks he might like to hire her as a lab assistant sometime in the future.

“Alright, Doctors. Are you ready?” she asks.

Newton nods enthusiastically. When does he ever do anything without some pep in him, Hermann wonders. He nods more apprehensively, but damn everything, he’s come too far to back out now.

“Initiating neural handshake,” Ayla says. “In three, two, one.”

The world as he knows it disappears around Hermann. His life quite literally flashes before his eyes, including bits and pieces that he knows don’t belong to him. Newton smiles at him through their connection, and in the background he hears Ayla confirm that the neural handshake is strong and holding.

They’re asked a series of questions, asked to do things like logic puzzles and other activities. They get a break for lunch, still connected, and then it’s over.  

“We’re done,” Ayla says. They stay in the Drift.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Dr. Ivers booms from the front of the room. “We have concluded today’s session. We know it has been a solid many months and perhaps longer since you have been able to Drift. We know that the Drift is a comfort to those who have been in it. Today we will allow you to exit the study when you see fit with the blue button on the console between each of you. Please note that you will be monitored and all brain activity will be recorded.”

_We’re staying, right?_ Newt thinks.

_I yet have no intention of disconnecting_ Hermann replies. He feels the connection bubble with happiness and can’t help smiling.

_Feels weird without the hive mind. Feels… empty. Like there’s something out of the corner of my mind’s eye that I know should be there but isn’t._

Hermann sighs audibly. _I feel it too._

They float around in each other’s heads for a while. Hermann learns a few more things about Newton than he had the first time around. There’s no hive mind to distract him now. He feels Newton’s fascination at all the boring details of Hermann’s life. Finally Newt thinks at him, _Time to disconnect_?

Hermann’s hand is already on the blue button, such is the nature of this strange form of telepathy, and his mind goes quiet.

He hears the sharp intake of breath from beside him. Ayla and another monitor come and disengage them from the Pons system and help them step down from their platform.

“We will see you in a week, Doctors,” she says and smiles politely while they’re escorted to the medical table for the all-clear to leave.

There are only two other couples ( _Is that what we are now_? Either he or Newton think absently in the back of his head) who are still Drifting.

Newton’s fingers brush against his as they sit on the examination table.

“Something to eat, maybe?” he hears Newt say, evidently at the end of a sentence. He nods without really thinking about it, fiddles with his cane, and avoids his lab partner’s gaze.

Before he realizes, they’re out of the building and in the parking lot. “I never knew you wanted to be an astronaut, space cadet,” Newt laughs, waving his hand in front of Hermann’s face. Hermann snaps out of his reverie and raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t think you’ve heard a single word I’ve been saying, but you _did_ agree to dinner, and I happen to know just the place. Took the psychology professor, Dr. Golding, there for lunch last week.”

That’s not jealousy stabbing at his gut, is it? He absently wonders if Dr. Golding is male or female.

It’s not fancy. It’s not a hole in the wall either, but it’s definitely very _Newton_. They’re early for dinner, it’s only 4 o’clock, but it’s a ma ‘n’ pa type place and they’re more than willing to make concessions. _Especially_ for two celebrity scientists who happened to be key in saving the world.

Newt happily sits across from Hermann and picks up the menu. “I hear these guys make really good lasagne,” he says, humming to himself as he scans the pages. Hermann watches him over his own menu and hides a smirk. Only two things ever make Newt this happy: kaiju, and the prospect of a good meal. Being the bachelors that they are, neither of them ever makes homemade meals.

Of course, some of Hermann’s more audacious female students, in hopes for a better grade, make him meals to put in his freezer so he doesn’t completely starve. He’ll never admit that he’s given them extra work under the table on the odd day he feels altruistic. Newt, on the other hand, well. He commands his classes so well that nobody even _needs_ extra credit because they all have remarkable grades. They bloody love him. But that also means no need for bribery.

“Herm?”

His gaze snaps up at the mention of his name. The waitress next to their table looks at him expectantly. “To drink, Dr. Gottlieb?” she asks with an amused smile.

“Oh, um,” Hermann says intelligently, glancing to Newt in silent question.

“I’m having their house beer,” Newt supplies. Hermann nods. “Yes, yes. That sounds good. I’ll have- I’ll have that.”

The waitress scribbles it down on her order pad and swishes away.

“Where is your head, man?” Newt asks, leaning forward on the table. His eyebrows crinkle together in concern. “It was the Drift, wasn’t it? Do we need to drop out of the study?” _Please, no, I need you in my head._

The thought startles Hermann. He wasn’t aware that such clear thoughts could still filter through once they were no longer connected. “N-no, of course not,” he says. “I am just not… not _accustomed_ to somebody else wandering in my thoughts. Especially someone like… someone like you.”

Newt sits up and tries not to look affronted. It doesn’t work. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks, hurt evident in the way his voice goes up in pitch.

Even Hermann himself isn’t sure. “We are very different, Newton,” he says, his voice a calm façade over the way his thoughts roil. “It will take some getting used to, you understand. Of course I do not intend to leave the study early.”

His friend visibly deflates with relief. “Good, ‘cause I thought that… that maybe…” He looks down at his napkin, fiddles with the paper between his fingers. “Thought maybe you didn’t wanna Drift with me anymore, ‘cause I’m such a basket case.”

Now, Hermann can insult Newton all he wants. They’ve known and worked with each other for eleven years. They understand each other better than anyone else now. But he’ll be damned if he lets Newton talk about himself that way.

“Newton, look at me,” he says in a low voice, reaching across the table to put his hand awkwardly on top of his friends’ for a moment and squeezing before withdrawing it. “You are a brilliant biologist. You have six doctorates. You are a professor at a prestigious university, and your students absolutely _adore_ you. I know I am not the easiest person to be around, and yet you have stuck by my side. So don’t you _dare_ ever think I would not want to Drift with you.”

He nods once, resolutely, maintaining eye contact.

Newt, for once, seems to be at a loss for words.

“Hermann, I…” he trails off, just as their beers arrive. He takes a long swig. “Thank you.”

Hermann frowns. “I thought it should have gone without saying. As impossible as you are to work with sometimes and as much as you grate on my nerves…”

“Hey, whoa,” Newt puts up his hands. “Can we go back to the part where I’m a brilliant biologist loved by all? What’s the point in complimenting me if you’re just going to tear me down after, man?”

“If you’d let me _finish_ , you insufferable git, I was going to say that as much as it seems we ought not to be friends, I con… consider you… to be one of my closest,” he manages, looking down at his hands. Emotional confessions of any sort have never been his forte, if his track record of pining from afar is any indication.

Hermann turns back to his menu for distraction, still undecided between the salmon burger and the chicken Caesar salad.

“Hey, put that down,” Newt orders, but Hermann ignores him until he’s good and ready to face his friend again. He sets his menu down and folds it neatly.

“Herm, man. You can’t just drop a bombshell word like _friend_ and then not talk about it. I mean, I… I _felt_ it, in the Drift, but it’s one thing to feel it and another thing to talk about it, right? I mean we’re not connected right now, so let’s talk about it.”

The twinge in the back of Hermann’s head tells him otherwise. He can feel Newt’s emotional response almost as clearly as if it were his own. He takes a good mouthful of his beer and swallows it back before setting it down with a hearty _clunk_.

“I don’t have _friends_ , Newton. You must have seen that. I have colleagues, maybe acquaintances if I like them well enough. I believe that the Drift has changed the nature of our relationship – working and otherwise – but I do not wish to analyze it at length. Please just accept what I can tell you and what you can feel for yourself when we are connected.”

Newt closes his menu and waves the waitress over. They order – Newt, his lasagne, and Hermann, the salmon burger. After she leaves, Newt leans in again, eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m honoured to be your friend, Hermann.” He leaves it at that.

Hermann takes comfort in the mundane conversation that follows. How Newton’s students are actually completely brilliant, how Hermann is the talk of the lunch room, how Dr. Golding is working closely with Dr. Ivers in developing a way to use the Drift in diagnosing certain mental illnesses.

“It sounds like you and Dr. Golding are getting on well,” Hermann ventures after their second beer each. He watches Newt’s face light up as he animatedly tells another story about the man, and can’t help but feel another pang of jealousy, deep in his stomach. Of course Newt is allowed to have other friends. Of course he’s allowed to build normal, human relationships. It’s not Newt’s fault that Hermann has always been incapable of any level of intimacy beyond a handshake or a hug or… or…

_Why think of this now. You were doing so well, Hermann. He was drunk. You were drunk._

Newt furrows his brows immediately, as if the thought finds its way into his head, too. “Earth to Hermann,” he says, waving his hand in front of Hermann’s face. “You were spacing out again. Really, dude. You’re tired, right? I’ll take you home. We can get our food to go.”

“No, please,” Hermann says. “We can finish our meal here. Do not cause a scene.”

Newt shrugs and digs into the lasagne that’s placed in front of him.

\---

The week passes and it’s time to Drift again. Hermann has thrown himself into his work, ignoring any thoughts he does not want Newt to see and building careful constructs around certain areas in his mind. For all he knows, it’ll all come crashing down while they’re Drifting and there’ll be nothing he can do about it. If Newton sees what a big pile of insecurities he is, then so be it.

\---

“Three, two, one.” He clenches his jaw and this time the montage passes a lot quicker. He’s been here before. He’s done this. Newt reaches out to him through their connection again and he takes his figurative hand. Figuratively.

_We’re in this together, man. No need to be afraid._

More puzzles. They’re left in silence for a good long while, too, but Hermann knows that they’re being monitored. They’re always being monitored. He wonders what his – what their brainwaves look like. If they’re in tandem. If they… embrace.

It’s a nice thought.

_Aww, brain hugs_ Newt thinks at him, and Hermann blushes because he hadn’t meant for that to come to the surface.

_Everything is on display in here. Seriously. I never knew you were such a big softie, Herm. I like it._

Camaraderie hums through the Drift.

It’s nice.

\---

Newt knows. He’s known for weeks. The Drift has made sure of that. Hermann just doesn’t know why he won’t do anything about it, why they communicate about everything but when they’re connected, why they speak about such trivial things when working together in their own lab. He feels a strange… _something_ , in Newt’s mind, too, but he doesn’t go there because he’s too worried that in doing so, he’ll reveal everything that he doesn’t want Newton to see.

They have interviews with all the major science magazines – National Geographic, Popular Science, Scientific American, Discover, and a multitude of others. Even Psychology Today does a piece on them, focusing mainly on the Drift and how it affected their brains to Drift with a hivemind. The publicity does not sit well with Hermann, but of course Newt soaks it up like a sponge. He thrives on it. It is, however, a welcome distraction to the both of them after the study ends four months after it begins.

\---

After being interviewed by the New York Times for a special piece on the one year anniversary of the breach closure, Newt pulls Hermann into another hug. Their connection remains more steadfast when they’re not in the Pons these days, and Hermann has since learned to let go of trying to hide everything. He hugs back unabashedly and relishes the contact. Newton lets go before he does.

“Look at us, almost a year ago you were all ‘Ahhh, don’t touch me,’ and now you’re a veritable hugging machine!” Newt teases. Hermann smiles despite himself.

“It’s all your fault,” he informs Newt.

“I take full responsibility.”

It’s all he can do not to grab the other man’s hand as they walk out of the lab that evening.

Newt trails two steps behind Hermann as they walk down the hallway to their apartments. Hermann lives in 506, while Newt resides in 511. Naturally, they reach Hermann’s door first. He unlocks it and turns to say his goodbyes, and Newton is _right there_. Hermann leans forward, places his hands on Newton’s cheeks, and presses a kiss to his lips. He’s about to deepen the kiss when Newt pulls away, flushed and not a little startled.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” He says. “I… I’m in a relationship. I should have… I should have told you.”

Hermann blinks at him. Once, twice, three times – and then swallows hard, nods his goodbye, steps into the apartment, and locks the door.

Relationship. Newton Geiszler is in a relationship. Newton Geiszler, the man that Hermann has spent the last several months pining after, the man who _knew_ about it, the man with whom he drifted and to whom he had confessed feelings of deep friendship – was in a relationship?

Hermann takes a deep breath and makes himself a cup of tea. He neglects to put any sugar in it, wincing at the bitter taste on his tongue. The record player beckons to him from the corner, so he puts on an album from his collection. It’s soft, quiet, and incredibly saddening.

His phone pings with a message.

_I’m sorry. I should have told you._ It says. He deletes it and blesses the fact that it’s Friday.

\---

Hermann makes sure that Newton has already left every morning for the next week. He avoids his gaze whenever they are in proximity. Tries not to resent the fact that Newt and Dr. Golding look incredibly happy when they’re together. And he’s absolutely certain he ruined a good thing before it ever happened.

\---

His students must realize that something is wrong. While he’s not as eloquent as Newt, perhaps, his enthusiasm for his material still shows through in his teaching. This week, it does not. One of the girls who sits at the front of the lecture hall approaches him before class one morning. “Dr. Gottlieb,” she says quietly, holding a Tupperware container full of some sort of food out to him. He takes it, confused.

“Your grades are fine this term, Darcy,” he says, looking down at it.

“I know,” she says. “You just look like you could use some cheering up, that’s all.”

Hermann puts it in his office’s mini-fridge and sighs. He lacks the motivation to get up and teach physics today, so he puts on a 45-minute video instead.

Darcy approaches him again after class. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to help me with my dissertation,” she asks. “Over a cup of coffee.”

He squints at her over his notes and frowns. That sounds an awful lot like a date in disguise, but the premise is harmless and he would really like to get his mind off of Newton for once.

“I am willing,” he says, nodding once.

Darcy clearly isn’t expecting this answer. She takes a moment to gather herself. “Great! Great. When are you free?”

Hermann looks down at his watch. “After next class I have nothing until six pm.”

“Great, so, coffee and lunch maybe? Noon? I’ll treat.”

Incredibly, suspiciously date-like.

“Please meet me here,” he says. “I am very interested in hearing about your dissertation.”

\---

The girl is incredibly bright. But she’s just that: a girl. Hermann tries his utmost to avoid leading her on, but she can’t seem to take the hint. He knows where this type of relationship leads; he knows what happened with Dr. Schoenfeld and Dr. Lightcap.

He jumps as Darcy’s foot trails down his calf. She leans forward. “Tell me, _Doctor_ , what was it like knowing you took part in saving the world? You’re a hero.”

The question is not unlike those asked in nearly every interview in which he has partaken, but this time the asker’s intentions are entirely different.

Hermann struggles not to respond to her advances and focuses on the question at hand. “It was necessary,” he says, voice straining. “It was my job, and I did it to the best of my ability like I would have done with anything else.”

 

Darcy somehow manages to keep him until he goes to his next class. And then she waits for him outside the door. “I don’t think our conversation was quite… finished,” she says, lips curving in a lascivious smile. Hermann swallows. His better judgement fails him, and he follows her to a bar three blocks from campus.

“This is highly inappropriate,” he mutters when they enter. “I hope you are aware that I shall be leaving alone and going to my own apartment alone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy says and waves him off. She motions for the bartender and orders them shots of tequila.

Well _that_ is definitely a very-not-good idea.

 

Darcy follows him home when they finally leave. The bar closes at two am and they’re kicked out with the rest of the stragglers. “I don’t have any bus fare,” she whines. “And I live really far away from here.”

Hermann, far more wobbly and dependant on his cane than usual, lacks the gumption to deny her. He hooks an arm into hers for support and balance and before he realizes it, they’re outside his door and she’s got him against a wall.

“Your accent is so hot,” she growls in his ear. “I fantasize about you at night, imagine you’ll make an example out of me for bad behaviour in front of the entire class…”

Hermann can’t help the stir of desire in his abdomen. He fumbles for his keys and lets them into his apartment. Darcy pushes him onto the couch and he’s too drunk to complain about the fact that it kills his leg. Hermann’s pants are down at his ankles and she kneels between his legs on the floor and…

Nothing.

“Are you _fucking_ with me?” Darcy screeches. Hermann groans and throws an arm over his eyes.

“I can’t,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

She finds his bedroom and slams his door. “I’m sleeping in here,” she announces, and Hermann hears her clothing hit the floor.

 

Newt opens the door to his apartment and Hermann leans against the frame. “Please let me in,” he mumbles. “She took over my bedroom and the couch kills my back.”

“Are you… are you _drunk_ , Hermann?” Newt asks, furrowing his brow. He wraps his arms around Hermann’s waist in order to keep him upright and guides him to a chair. “And who’s ‘she’? Why is she in your apartment?”

Hermann groans again. “Stupid. I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have… _Gott im Himmel_ , Newton, what have I done?”

Newt pours him a glass of water and he drinks it gratefully.

“I don’t know, what have you done?” Newt asks patiently. Hermann pouts and stares at him miserably.

“I let my guard down. I’m going to get fired,” he hiccups. “This happens every time I try to have a good time. Every _Gott verdammt_ time, and it’s all my fault.”

Newt’s caring expression hardens. “I didn’t… oh god, Herm. I’m so sorry. I never meant to take advantage-”

Hermann motions for him to be quiet. “You’re not my only indiscretion, Newton,” he sighs. Newt flinches visibly at the word _indiscretion_ but Hermann carries on.   
“I let myself get to a place where I am so emotionally compromised that I cannot handle myself properly. I lose control over… over my actions and I’m terrified. Completely, utterly terrified.” He sniffles.

“C’mere, Herm,” Newt says, and pulls him into a hug. “Let’s get you into bed.”

 

Hermann wakes up the next morning feeling like a train wreck. He lurches and vomits into a conveniently-placed bucket next to the bed. The door opens and Newt pops his head through. “You uh, okay there?” he asks.

Hermann groans in response. The light absolutely kills his eyes. “Leave me to die,” he moans.

Newt brings him a large glass of water and sits on the bed next to him.

“I went to your apartment. Whoever was in there isn’t anymore, but she left a… uh, lovely mess in your bathroom.”

“Ugh,” Hermann says, and reaches for the bucket again.

 

Noon rolls around and Newt’s still sitting next to him. He reads some book that Hermann can’t quite see the name of. “Thank you,” Hermann mutters sheepishly.

“Hmm?” Newt asks, peering at him over his glasses.

“Thank you. For taking care of me even when I did not deserve it. I’m sorry for… for avoiding you this past week.”

Newt shrugs. “I think I deserved it,” he says quietly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just-”

“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” Hermann replies, tone only slightly melancholy. His stomach grumbles. “I should probably head back.” He moves to take the bowl that was next to his bed and clean it, but it looks like Newt beat him to that while he slept. “I do believe I owe you a rather large favour.”

Newt raises his eyebrows. “I’ll just consider it payback, okay?”

 

\---

 

Darcy stares him down the next time he stands at his lectern. She flushes and looks down at her papers when Hermann catches her watching, and they don’t make eye contact for the rest of the class.

“I suppose you want straight As and extra credit for the rest of the semester,” he sighs when it’s just the two of them again. “Though I would really rather you just report me so I can get it over with and live the rest of my life in shame and misery.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “No, Dr. Gottlieb. It was entirely my fault. You are a man of character and I was entirely out of line.”

“I did little to stop you, Darcy,” Hermann says, voice on edge and face distorted into one of extreme unhappiness. “I am in a position of authority and if we are discovered, it rests entirely on my shoulders.”

“What, and you don’t think _my_ academic career would be ruined?” Darcy snorts derisively. “Let’s just agree that it never happened. You couldn’t even get it up, anyway.”

She turns on her heel and exits the lecture hall with purpose, heels clicking angrily against the floor. At the doorway she notices that she forgot her textbook, but she keeps right on marching.

Hermann feels sick to his stomach.

 

\---

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Dr. Golding says in the faculty room that afternoon. Hermann raises his eyebrows and frowns.

“Yes?”

“I know that as a long-time colleague of Newton, you must know him rather well.”

“We Drifted together, Dr. Golding. I would say I know him extremely well,” Hermann says sharply. “Better than his own mother.”

Dr. Golding furrows his brow. “Well… yes. Yes, of course.” He pauses and looks down at his mug of coffee. “I just… I was wondering if I could ask your advice on something.”

Hermann stands. “If this involves your relationship in any way, shape, or form, then I would like to take no part in it. Dr. Geiszler and I are on strictly professional terms-” Lie- “and I would much prefer that the nature of our relationship does not change.”

Dr. Golding swallows. “Of course,” he says again. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

 

\---

 

Weeks pass and Hermann still largely ignores the existence of Newton Geiszler, as difficult as it is with their connection. He knows that as his friend and former Drift-partner, he should at least give him the time of day, but he can’t. Not yet. And surely Newton understands that? He was inside Hermann’s head, he saw everything that their relationship meant to him. What Hermann _doesn’t_ understand is how Newt could know all of that, could _feel_ all of that, and then without a word just shack up with someone else. He desperately wanted that connection back, to Drift again, and at the same time he never wanted Newton to see the inside of his mind ever again. He bristled with anger and confusion at the very thought of it.

 

“Herm?”

Hermann looks up from grading papers in his office late one evening, startled.

“Come in,” he says, an air of formality evident in his tone.

Newt takes a chair and sits on the other side of the desk. He cuts the small talk; there’s never any need for it with them. “I was thinking we should Drift again.”

Were the writing instrument in his hand a pencil, it would snap.

“I’m _sorry?_ ” Hermann asks slowly. “You would like to Drift again.” He repeats the statement, but not as a question.

“Uh, yeah,” Newt says.

“You would like to Drift again, after getting so far under my skin I started developing _feelings_ for you?” Hermann spits out the word like it leaves an awful taste in his mouth. “And after letting said feelings multiply and grow in their intensity until suddenly we were couldn’t Drift anymore because the program finished, and then after you went on your merry way and didn’t acknowledge them - or our continued connection - _once_?”

Newt looks down at his hands.

“You’d like to Drift again? What makes you think I would want to Drift with you?” Hermann continues, gaining momentum, even though he’d like for nothing more. “After you ignored everything I was feeling and fell in love with somebody else! I know fucking well that you can’t help what you feel, Dr. Geiszler, but I’d have thought we had reached the stage in our _fffriendship_ ,” he struggles with the word, “Where we could have given each other the common courtesy!”

“It’s not like you ever said it out loud. You made a point to shroud it in the Drift, so I had the _common courtesy_ not to prod at it, man. I thought you would have appreciated that.” Newt seems to take the tirade rather well, not looking shaken up in the least.

Hermann’s lower lip trembles and No, Hermann. Not this. Not now. Grow up.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says, struggling to keep his voice even. “Now please leave. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

Newt stands without another word and stalks out the door, but not before whipping around at the last second. “And I don’t love him, Dr. Gottlieb. No one else could ever have that privilege.”

 

Whether they were drunk or not, Hermann and Newt share a physical history. The fact weighs over Hermann’s mind that it’s his fault they never brought it up. That he could have - should have - done something about it. For a life filled with regrets and failures, this is perhaps one of his biggest.

 

\---

 

Dr. Ivers approaches Hermann as they leave that day. “Dr. Gottlieb!” he calls. Hermann stops in his tracks and turns.

“Yes?”

“I did not get the chance to speak with you this morning. I just wanted to let you know that we are keeping the Pons on campus and that it is free to use for study participants, by appointment.”

Hermann feels the tips of his ears go red. “Yes, yes, of course, thank you,” he says.

 

That explains why Newton approached him earlier. Hermann mulls over this information on his ride home. Unsure if he overreacted or if his outburst was entirely justified, he clutches his briefcase and falls into an uneasy sleep.

Hermann awakens when the bus jolts to a stop. Disoriented, he looks around and realizes that he missed his stop. He gathers his things quickly and exits the bus, looking around him in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The sky opens up, and it begins to pour. He forgot his umbrella at home.

 

By the time Hermann makes it home, it’s far past dinner time. He finds a dishevelled Newton on the front steps of their apartment building, hands in his already-messy hair. “Hermann?” he asks. They both look like drowned rats.

“Newton,” Hermann breathes, any anger he felt toward the man dissipating abruptly. “What are you doing out here?”

“You won’t care,” Newt mumbles into his arms, which are wrapped around his knees.

Despite the fact that the ground is soaking wet, Hermann sits down next to him. “I care that you are outside in the pouring rain. You are going to catch pneumonia again, and I’m going to have to take care of you. Do you really think I want to take that time off of work?” His eyes betray him, though, and Newt discovers that when he tilts his head sideways to look at him.

“Your concern is moving, but you really won’t care.”

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up, you can tell me about it then. Then _I’ll_ be the judge of that.” Hermann lifts Newt by the arm and leads the bedraggled scientist inside. Once they reach their floor, Hermann resists Newt’s insistence that he be left alone with his misery in his _own_ apartment. “Really, Hermann, there’s no need to mess up _yours_ too.”

“Shush,” Hermann grumbles, and sits Newt down on the edge of his bathtub. He hands him a towel for his dripping-wet hair. “What were you thinking,” he mutters, pulling Newt’s leather jacket from his shoulders. He leaves and returns after a few moments with an armful of clothing, including sweatpants (which are Newt’s anyway, he left them behind at Hermann’s apartment ages ago for who-knows-what reason) and an oversized sweatshirt. "You may wear these," he says, and turns his back so Newt can get changed.

"You've seen me without clothing before, dude," Newt points out. It infuriates Hermann because it's true. One too many explosions of guts in the lab had necessitated complete strip-downs on occasion. "Yes, well," Hermann says. "I do believe that ogling nudity is only appropriate in certain situations, wouldn't you agree?"

Newt keeps silent as he changes. Once he has his pants on, he tells Hermann to turn around.

"Do you have a bag for these?" He asks, nudging the pile of clothing with his bare foot. His shoes had soaked through, too. He pulls the sweater over his head and shivers, taking the plastic bag Hermann hands to him.

"Tea," Hermann mutters, and leaves him alone in the bathroom. He hovers over the kettle when Newt walks into the kitchen.

"Thanks," Newt says to him. "But you really shouldn't have any sympathy for me. I've kinda been a shitty friend to you. And a terrible Drift partner."

"But a friend nonetheless," Hermann points out. "What happened?" He hands Newt a freshly-poured mug of tea.

For once, Newt stays silent while he gathers his thoughts. "Raymond - _Dr. Golding_ \- dumped me,” he says eventually.

Hermann can't help that his heart skips a beat at that. "Oh," he says, striving to keep his tone neutral. "I am sorry to hear that." Well. That's not a complete lie. The fact remains that it upsets Newton, and that, in turn, causes Hermann distress. The connection pulses with all sorts of feelings in the back of his head, from confusion and anger and sadness (Newton's emotions, most certainly) to elation and relief (definitely Hermann’s own), and the cacophony of emotions very nearly overwhelms him.

"Herm, why are you crying?" Newt asks through his own sniffling. _Newt, get a hold of yourself_ pings through Hermann's mind.

He touches his face and his fingers come away wet with tears. "I'm sorry," he sobs, and collapses forward into Newt.

Newt catches him under the arms and hugs him close, buries his face in Hermann’s hair. “Shh, no, it’s… it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“Why are _you_ consoling _me?_ ” Hermann chokes out.

Newt attempts a smile. “Because I’ve been a shitty friend and I’m sorry.” He brings his arms around up to Hermann's shoulders and hugs him tighter.

 

They order pizza. It’s Newton’s idea, of course, but Hermann finds he doesn’t mind so much. As long as he picks off the pepperoni. They eat in silence, mostly because Newt appears to be so hungry that he cannot stop stuffing his mouth.

“Manners, Newton,” Hermann can’t help saying, even though he could do the same if etiquette hadn’t been drilled into him from an early age. He flattens the box when they’re finished - _really, Newton, how did you manage to finish 4/7 of a large pizza? You have an abnormal stomach._

Already some semblance of normalcy tentatively reforms between them.

 

The atmosphere in the apartment changes when Newt stands. “Well. I won’t bother you anymore. Thanks for…” he gestures to the room. “Everything. You’re a real pal.” He winces visibly at his word choice, but makes no move to change it. “And uh, if you ever need anything. You know where I am.” He exits quickly and Hermann silently watches him go, wishing he had the courage to ask him to stay.

 

Not long after Newton leaves, Hermann climbs into bed and stares at the ceiling. Light filters in through his curtains from the city below. He can’t sleep. The clock on his bedside table reads midnight, then quarter to one, and after what must have been a brief nap of sorts, three oh four. Finally he reaches for his phone, but the Drift Hangover kicks in and it lights up before he can even unlock it.

_Can’t sleep._

Hermann scoffs. _Nor I,_ he texts back. Moments later, Newton responds.

_Want to come over? I have pie and Star Trek on the holo._

Hermann doesn’t even answer. He just gets up, puts on his slippers and housecoat, and trudges down the apartment hallway to Newton’s door. It opens before he can knock. Newt has an episode of The Original Series paused on the holo. Hermann raises his eyebrow at the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch.

“What?” Newt shrugs. “I like to be comfortable.”

“Did you even _attempt_ to go to bed, Newton?” Hermann sighs as he pushes past him.

“Uh,” Newt says, and that’s all the answer Hermann needs.

The apartment looks different than it did the last time Hermann was in it. He can’t quite place it but it seems almost… cleaner. Brighter, perhaps. And there’s a fish tank in the corner. “You got fish?” he asks, making his way to the couch and settling in against a corner of it.

Newt shrugs. “Yeah. I used to have some when I was a kid. I’ve got Angelfish in a tank in my bedroom. Not quite as cuddly as a cat, but I’m allergic, so.”

They watch the episode in silence, and then another, and another, and soon it’s five am and Newt is leaning on Hermann’s shoulder and snoring softly. Hermann wakes him up and turns off the holo. “I’ll let you get some rest,” he murmurs, and stands.

Newt reaches out and grabs his hand. “No,” he groans. “Stay.”

Hermann sighs. “I need to sleep as well.”

Newt rubs his eyes and yawns. “My bed’s big enough for two.”

Hermann sputters. “N-newton. I can’t, you know I won’t-”

“Chill out, dude. It doesn’t have to be like that. Come on.” Newt stands and takes Hermann’s hand, leading him to the bedroom down the hall. “It’s just sleeping. It’s not like we’re going to…” he trails off. “It’s just sleeping.”

Hermann acquiesces and follows in favour of being dragged. He folds his housecoat and lays it on the carpet next to his slippers. Newt pulls the covers back for them and they climb in, awkwardly getting comfortable and avoiding the elephant in the room. The last time they were in Newton’s bed, things… _happened._

“Thank you, Newton,” Hermann murmurs, shuffling to get comfortable on his left side.

“Yeah, uh. No problem man. Uh, hey… I was wondering.”

Hermann waits for the next part of that sentence, but it doesn’t come. “What?” he prompts.

“I was wondering if… if you’d reconsider. I’m sorry how angry it made you earlier, suggesting we Drift again, but I think… I think we could maybe fix things between us a little, if we did.”

Hermann’s heart skips a beat. He wants nothing more. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “It’s a quarter past five in the morning. I would like to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry.”

Not five minutes later, Newt throws an arm haphazardly around Hermann’s middle and snores.

 

Hermann wakes up first. He sits up groggily; the clock on Newton’s side of the bed reads noon. He puts his slippers and housecoat on and debates whether to go back to his apartment or to make breakfast. A preliminary check of the kitchen tells him breakfast is a viable option, if he’s content with a bagel and some cream cheese. Newt doesn’t even have eggs in his fridge.

Hermann bites into the second half of his bagel when Newt walks in. “Sorry I don’t have much,” he says. “I don’t usually eat in the mornings.”

Hermann knows this from their years in the lab together. “Yes, well, some of us need sustenance. He looks around the kitchen and is surprised by how oddly normal it is. Like it doesn’t belong to the biggest monster geek Hermann has ever met. Even his living room is mostly free of memorabilia. Hermann actually feels rather comfortable here, as though he’d decorated it himself.

“It’s a Drift Hangover thing,” Newt says, interrupting his thoughts. “I started tending toward liking things that you like. It’s been a really weird experience.”

Hermann smirks. “That might explain why I occasionally have the irrational urge to get a tattoo,” he says, deadpan.

Newton’s face lights up. “Whoa, wait. Really?” he asks, before realizing that Hermann is joking. “Man, don’t rile me up like that. But… I mean, if you did, I’d go with you. You could get something small, like an equation or something.”

“No,” Hermann says resolutely. “No tattoos.” He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with a subject change. Before he realizes it, he says, “I think we should Drift again.”

Newt stares at him suspiciously, just in case he’s trying to pull one over on him again. “Wait, you’re being serious?” he asks when he finally figures out that Hermann isn’t joking.

Hermann nods. “Dr. Ivers approached me as I left yesterday. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think it might be beneficial to continue Drifting. Imagine the possibilities,” he murmured as an afterthought. “The Drift squares brainpower, and with minds like yours and mine, think of what we might accomplish.”

Newt sits down with a _thud_. “You know,” he says thoughtfully while stealing the last bite of Hermann’s bagel, “We spent all that time focusing on the study and on completely pointless things, but there’s something that’s been nagging in the back of my mind.”

Hermann raises his eyebrows, indicating that Newt ought to continue.

“Well. If pilots square brainpower when they’re connected, and Crimson Typhoon cubed their brainpower… If we built an AI to Drift with, do you realize the implications of that?”

Hermann smiles. “I’ve already built an artificial intelligence, Newton. It very nearly passed the Turing test. I know you know that.”

“Alright, so if we modified that to take the place of a Jaeger…”

“…It would act as a third pilot, thereby cubing the brainpower and calculating ability.”

“Brilliant!” Newton exclaims, crumbs flying everywhere.

 

They book a Pons from the lab that afternoon.


	2. Convalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes people a while to bounce back from things. Sometimes other things help speed the process along. Sometimes those other things are life-threatening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their patience with this chapter. I don't normally write stories this long so it's taken a little while to put it together and to write it. Keep an eye out for the third and probably final instalment in the story, hopefully to arrive before summer does!

“Will this be monitored?” Newton asks as they sign in at the front desk. The setup of the Pons lab has changed since the study ended. There’s now a proper reception area, with a secretary and everything.

“Not unless you sign the appropriate documents,” the secretary informs them. “However, due to your participation in the study, I’m sure Dr. Ivers will not mind your having free reign of the equipment, as long as you do not damage it.” Mirth sparkles in her eyes, and Newt knows she is referring to his now-infamous makeshift Pons setup on the streets of Hong Kong. “I promise we will take good care of it,” Hermann interrupts him before he even begins.

They finish signing everything and walk into a waiting room.

 

“Doctors!” Dr. Ivers greets them, arms open and smile inviting. “So nice to have you back. Many of our study participants have moved onto other things, and new candidates have to go through an extensive process before they can use the Pons.”

“Since they do not have to battle together, what criteria are you using to determine who are Drift compatible?” Hermann inquires as they’re led into the familiar lab.

Newt moves toward the machine they had used throughout the duration of the study, uninterested in the answer to that question. After a brief inspection, he discovers that it does not have capabilities for linking up a third intelligence into the Drift. No matter. Modifications don’t count as ‘damage,’ right? He’ll have to ask Dr. Ivers discreetly. He and Hermann agreed beforehand not to disclose much about the work they intend to do. The whole scientific community has its sights set on the Pons technology- with so many potential uses, everyone wants a piece. It’s cutthroat.

 

The moment they’re connected in the Drift, Newt breathes a sigh of relief. He missed this, having Hermann in his head with all his brilliance. They’re still not used to the lack of the hive mind, and perhaps they never will be, but that’s just something they’ll have to deal with.

_We may have to build our own Pons._

Hermann’s hands clench. _Incompatible for...?_

 _Highly, from what I could tell. Haven’t had the opportunity to check it over, really,_ Newt frowns.

_No port for patching in a third? We may have to install a subroutine in the system._

A quick glance around the lab informs Newt, and by extension Hermann, that they’re alone.

 _If we could acquire the funding to build our own…_ he thinks. _I could build a proper one that will work infinitely better than the one I made in Hong Kong._  
He can physically feel Hermann disagreeing.

 

By the end of their session, they reach the decision to do individual research and consolidate it via the Drift. Their plan may not work out as smoothly as they had hoped, but they would find a way.

 

\---

 

It’s Newt’s turn to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, and Hermann finally throws his hands in the air. “Have you heard a word I’ve said in the last five minutes?” he asks, exasperated.

Newt refocuses on Hermann. “Sorry. Probably not,” he says. “I’m just trying to figure out how we’re going to do this.”

“Yes, well,” Hermann reaches across the small restaurant table to rest a hand on Newton’s wrist. It’s more intimate than Hermann has dared to be since they started talking again. “Leave work at work.”

Newt chuckles. “And this, coming from a man who loves his work so much, he’s practically married to it? What brings on such strange thoughts, I wonder.”

The connection in their heads floods with feelings of goodwill. “I recall that I had a similar reaction the last time we Drifted after so long an absence from it.”

“It wasn’t quite so long this time, though,” Newt shrugs. He looks down at Hermann’s hand, then turns his own palm up to caress the smooth underside of Hermann’s forearm. It feels nice.

Hermann sighs and finally pulls his arm away, stiffening into a more formal posture. “Newton, there are some things we ought to discuss,” he says. “We had a good thing, and we broke it, and it’s going to take some time to get it back to where it was.”

Newt nods. Of course they wouldn’t be able to fall back into their old ways. Nothing is ever that easy. He only has himself to blame, he knows, but he won’t deny that it still hurts. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he agrees, even though Hermann was the one to initiate contact.

“Listen, I’m giving a guest lecture a few states over in a few weeks, and I was wondering if you would keep an eye on my apartment,” he changes the subject rather abruptly. They have a few things to talk about, yes, but that doesn’t mean they need to do it now.

Hermann glares at him before his expression softens. “Of course,” he sighs. “Not that it truly needs watching, since we live in a rather safe building and neighbourhood.”

Newt shrugs. “The fish need feeding,” he says. “Normally they’re fine for a few days, but I’m going to be away for a week and there are some species that need more consistent care.”

“A week? Why so long?”

“It’s a conference and I’ll be speaking on more than one day. I’ll need a day or so to recuperate, then a day to pack and travel back here. I’d rather give myself a lot of time than not enough, you know?”

Hermann knows that all too well. Newt’s more lackadaisical view of time management drives him up the wall sometimes, especially regarding deadlines and time-sensitive plans. “How are you getting there?” he asks suddenly.

“My bike, obviously,” Newt replies, eyebrows furrowed and expression incredulous. As if there were any other mode of transportation.

“And it’s a few states over? That seems a lot of travel.”

Newt laughs. “I know you’re foreign and all, dude, but you do realize that the states on this side of the country are a lot smaller than the ones on the west coast, right?”

Hermann frowns. “It’s cold,” he points out. “It’s only February.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Yes, and in a couple of weeks, it will be March, and it will be warmer. It’ll be fine.”

They drop that subject, too, and move on to other, more mundane topics. They haven’t made leaps and bounds yet, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly a start on their friendship’s road to recovery. And Newt feels pretty good about that.

 

\---

 

Newt sees less of Hermann the closer it gets to midterms. As much work as it is for the students, the professors have a lot of work to do, too. It isn’t until the final week of February that Newt convinces Hermann to take a night off.

“Come to my apartment. We’ll have a glass of wine, and we’ll talk about things that aren’t student- or university-related.” He cajoles and wheedles and practically begs before Hermann finally acquiesces, however.

“Only because you have made a pest of yourself,” he says when he finally agrees. “And I am only staying until nine pm.”

That, of course, isn’t exactly how events turn out. It’s already 11pm and even though Hermann keeps glancing at his watch, he hasn’t gotten up to leave just yet.

“Am I keeping you awake?” Newt teases. “You don’t have to feel guilty for taking some time for yourself, you know.”

Hermann sighs, hands wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea. “This is making me fall asleep,” he says, and sets it aside. “Do you have anything stronger?”

Newt thinks for a moment. “Um, I have chai?” That has caffeine in it, right?

“No, I mean…” Hermann trails off. Newt’s eyes light up with understanding. “Yeah! Yeah, I’ll be right back,” he says, and several minutes later brings two hand-crafted cocktails that have three layers of colour in them. Images of bartending school flash through Hermann’s mind and explain why such a beautiful beverage now sits in his hand.

“I got bored when I was in my twenties,” Newt shrugs. “Tell me how you like it.” Hermann reluctantly takes a sip, and a slightly fruity flavour washes over his palate. “Good,” he says cautiously.

“I’d say stir it to get the blend of flavours, but the colour will be a little unappealing,” Newt laughs. “There’s grenadine at the bottom, though, for when you get to the second layer.” Hermann examines the heavy red liquid at the bottom of the glass. He’s never been one for sweet things, Newt knows, but this drink wouldn’t quite be the same without it. He carefully watches Hermann’s expression as he takes in all the individual elements of the drink.

“This is very good,” Hermann finally says. Newt raises his eyebrows. “I should hope so. It’s probably one of my favourite drinks to make,” he responds. “I can make you another one, if you want. Or something else. Whatever you like.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Hermann says, even as he looks longingly at the kitchen. “But…”

Newt jumps out of his chair before Hermann can gather his thoughts. “On it.” He returns after some clattering and banging noises resound through the kitchen and into the living room. Newt presents Hermann with a highball glass with another mysterious liquid in it, this one uniform in colour. “One sec, one sec,” Newt says, and whips out a lighter. He lights the surface on fire, and the flame burns bright blue. The lights seem to have dimmed in the room, but that makes the fire all that much more visible. “Make sure you blow it out,” he says, setting the glass down on the table in front of Hermann. “Don’t splash alcohol when you do it.” As for himself, he carries a simple lowball glass containing whiskey on the rocks. Hermann stares at the dangerous concoction before him before coming back to the real world and blowing it out as instructed.

 

It’s not until drink number four that Hermann attempts to stand and help Newton carry out the pizza from his freezer they decided to cook. He promptly trips over the ottoman. _“Arschfotze!”_ he yells at it in drunken German.

“Havin’ a good time there, bud?” Newt asks, popping his head around the corner and grinning when he sees Hermann glaring at the offending piece of furniture.

 _“Du kannst mich mal,”_ Hermann spits at him. Then, in rather slurred English, “You’re’re an ass...head.”

Newt puts down the pizza cutter he’s holding and reaches out to Hermann. “Come here, come here. I shouldn’t have made those last two drinks doubles,” he says thoughtfully. “Ow!” he yells after Hermann cuffs him on the ear.

“You got me drunk, _arschloch_.”

“You _said_ you wanted something stronger,” Newt says in his defense. “It’s not my fault you kept agreeing to more drinks. Besides, you seemed fine sitting there.”

Hermann pulls away from him and supports himself on the doorframe so he can jab Newt in the chest with two fingers. “They were good. S’not my fault.” He stands up straight and tries to look collected. The scene is so comically pathetic that Newt can’t help but laugh, earning him an indignant look. “I’m sorry, but you should see yourself right now.” He fumbles for his phone, but Hermann stops him.

“Record this, and I’m never speaking to you again.”

Newt must have consumed more than he thought. In an instant he remembers _why_ Hermann has to support himself on the doorframe, and it’s not simple inebriation. “Shit, sorry!” He says, lunging for the cane that lays propped up against the couch. He spins around and presents it to Hermann with a sheepish grin on his face. “I know you’re drunk and all, but you probably shouldn’t be travelling without this.”

Hermann leans forward and inspects it, eyes narrowing. “What do I need this for?” he asks. He turns to walk into the kitchen, probably looking cooler in his head than in reality, and promptly takes a headfirst dive on the linoleum.

Newt is at his side before you can say “kaiju.”

 

“We need to stop doing this,” Hermann moans when Newt drags him to bed. “S’gonna lead to something and we’re not gonna be able t’come back from it.”

“Nothing’s happening while you’re impaired, buddy,” Newt reassures him. “Or ever. As long as you don’t want it, it’s not gonna happen, alright?”

Hermann nods. “Why do I always end up here?” he moans, flopping face-down into the pillow. Newt smiles and tucks him in. “Because you get yourself so wound up that you can’t deal with your problems, and then you do this to unwind and you let go of everything. I don’t know what else to tell you, man. Maybe you need to learn to manage yourself better.” He shrugs and pats Hermann on the shoulder, but the other man is already asleep. “Good chat, real talk,” Newt says, then leaves to go clean up his kitchen and living room of the pizza debris.

 

\---

 

Hermann is gone when Newt wakes up. There isn’t a note, but that’s not really Hermann’s style. Newt just knows that the man must have one hell of a hangover, and to be grading papers with a killer headache will be terrible. His own is pretty bad, and he curses himself for not consuming enough water the night before.

 

Because all of Newton’s classes are in the afternoon, he takes his sweet time getting ready for work. He knows Hermann must have taken a taxi. Buses would be too slow, and he likely woke up too late and realized that fact.

Newt contemplates asking Hermann out on a proper Date, for dinner at a Very Fancy Restaurant perhaps, but decides that it’s too soon. They need to become close again, and it’s going to take a lot of trying to get back to where they were before. He finishes drying his hair after a shower and frowns at the mirror. Did Jaeger pilots ever experience these kinds of messed up emotions?

 

\---

 

The motorcycle’s engine revs in the cold air. The chill hasn’t subsided quite yet, but Newt is determined not to be phased. He opts for a more practical windbreaker today, but wears his signature leather jacket underneath. Some of Hermann’s stress filters into the back of his mind while he rides.

 _Don’t worry,_ he thinks. _About a thing. Because every little thing, is gonna be alright._

He hums away quietly as he speeds along the quiet side roads he has grown accustomed to taking to work. A slight turn here to miss that pothole, slow down for the corner that’s a little too sharp, he’s got it down after taking it nearly every day for the past few months. The sun peeks through the dissipating clouds and for a moment Newt believes it might be a beautiful day.

His side roads come to an end and he merges swiftly onto a main parkway, riding the gloriously smooth pavement down a few blocks before signalling a left turn onto campus. He watches the first birds of spring flitting about on the wires up above, but he turns his attention back to the oncoming traffic and waits for a lull so that he can continue on his way. The moment one makes itself available, he takes it, gunning the throttle and launching forward, noticing a little too late the speed of the oncoming truck.

A bright flash blocks his vision. The sickening crunch of smashing metal rings through the crisp morning air and suddenly Newt is lying on his back, staring up at the sun as it disappears behind the clouds. That’s the last thing he sees.

 

_Rise up this mornin',_

_Smiled with the risin' sun,_

_Three little birds_

_Pitch by my doorstep_

_Singin' sweet songs_

_Of melodies pure and true,_

_Sayin', ‘This is my message to you-ou-ou’_

_Don’t worry about a thing_

_‘Cause every little thing is gonna be alright_

 

\---

 

_Collapsed lung._

_Broken ribcage._

_Reconstructive surgery._

 

Newt slides in and out of consciousness. The voices in his head sound an awful lot like they want to cut him open and he’s not really into that idea.

 

\---

 

It’s impossible to see through the haze. Newt wonders if he’s back in his college dorm for a moment, but realizes that the accompanying pungent smell seems to be missing. He forces his eyes open and wishes he hadn’t; there’s no way his corneas are going to survive light that blinding.

There’s a ruckus. Something clatters and falls to the ground; there are footsteps and shouts outside.

_Outside where?_

“Where am I?” he attempts to ask, but there’s something obstructing his mouth. His eyes fly open again. There’s a monitor beeping erratically next to him, he realizes suddenly. And there are needles in his flesh. Austere white walls surround him. He makes some sort of noise and a mask-clad face appears over him.

“You’ll be fine,” the woman assures him. She has beautiful blue eyes, and that’s all Newt can see about her face. “Please remain calm, sir.” She puts some sort of liquid into the IV drip attached to his hand and he slowly loses consciousness.

 

The next time he wakes up, he sees a different nurse standing over his bead. He gestures to the tube in his mouth with a quizzical expression.

“You had a collapsed lung, Dr. Geiszler,” the nurse informs him. “The doctor says we can probably switch you to something that will let you speak by the end of today, but for now would you like a pen and paper to communicate?”

He attempts a nod. The nurse understands him, leaves the room, and returns moments later with a small notepad.

Newt’s too tired to write anything and it hurts like hell to lift his arms anyway, but that evening when the nurse comes in for her last round of the shift, he writes “Hermann” on the notepad.

The nurse smiles brightly when she sees the name. “He’s here all the time. Visiting hours aren’t until tomorrow at ten am, but he will be here promptly, I assure you.” Newt is satisfied with that answer and closes his eyes. Internally, he’s freaking out. Collapsed lung? When did that happen? And vague recollections of distant conversations pick at his memory - something about reconstructive surgery? What the hell _happened_ , anyway?

 

\---

 

Hermann is as prompt as the nurse said he would be. “Newton,” he breathes as he passes through the door. “They told me you were awake.”

Newt smiles, or at least attempts to. He writes on the notepad, “What happened?”

“You were hit by a speeding truck,” Hermann frowns, and pulls up a chair next to the hospital bed. “They got you to the hospital just in time. Your ribcage had been crushed and you had a collapsed lung. And your leg…” he trails off and looks down the bed. Newt follows his line of vision and sees his leg in a sling attached to the ceiling.

“They had to reconstruct your knee. It was shattered.”

Newt makes an indignant noise around the tube. The heart rate monitor next to him starts to beep faster.

“Newton, please,” Hermann says, concern evident in his voice. “Settle down. Last time you woke up you nearly went into cardiac arrest. You are very fragile right now.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but listens to his friend anyway. Doctor’s orders, even if he is the wrong kind of doctor. Then he looks out the window. The sun shines brightly, much as it had before the accident. No more than a day or two could have passed; this weather system was only meant to last a week before a storm system rolled in, according to the forecast.

He takes the pen and writes, _guess I’ll have to cancel the lectures, then._

Hermann takes the note, reads it, then furrows his brow. Newt shrugs as if to say, No big deal, he can always reschedule, right? “Newton…” Hermann says carefully. “Do not worry about that right now.”

They sit in mostly silence for the rest of the visiting hours. When the nurse comes to remind Hermann that it’s time to leave, he stubbornly refuses to move from his seat. Newt stares at the nurse pleadingly. “ _Please_ ,” he writes on the paper. She acquiesces and Hermann is allowed to stay until that evening, when the doctor arrives and promptly shoos him out.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Hermann assures him as he shuffles out the door, casting an indignant glance toward the medical professionals who, while having saved Newton’s life, are the reason he must depart.

 

\---

 

The procedure of removing the tube and replacing it with smaller oxygen tubes is not a pleasant one. Newt breathes a sigh of relief when it’s over. He also realizes he’s thirsty as hell.

“Nurse, my mouth tastes disgusting,” he whines when she comes to renew his medication. She smiles at him and points to the cup of water sitting on the table next to his bed. Newt sheepishly picks it up. “So, uh, I have a few questions. About, uh, everything,” he says, gesturing at himself. The nurse pauses at the exit. “I think those might be best answered by a doctor,” she says gently.

 

\---

 

A month. A month? A month! How could it have been a month?

“Hermann!” Newt says angrily the moment his friend enters the room. “Why didn’t you tell me that I was in a coma for a whole _freaking month?_ ”

Hermann winces. “They told me not to tell you,” he admits quietly. “I wanted to. I almost did, but they warned it could set off your heart.”

It had, of course. The panic that overtook his body when he found out was too much for his system to handle at the time. They told him it was the meds that made his heart weak. He needs them, but they could kill him. He needs to stay calm.

“How am I supposed to stay calm when I lost a _month_ , Hermann?” Newt lets his head fall back to the pillow, defeated. Then, softly, he says, “Did I almost die?”

Hermann nods. “Twice. I’ve been here every day from the moment I was allowed in.”

 

\---

 

The next time Hermann visits, he carries a tote bag with him. “I brought you a present,” he announces and dumps it unceremoniously on the table beside Newt’s bed. Newt reaches over and pulls the bag onto his lap. “What’s this?” he asks, unzipping it to see. He pulls out a piece of machinery without anything attached. “Um…?” he says, examining it. “Is this to remind me of the lab? Because as much as I love my work, I’m enjoying this time off…” he says jokingly.

Hermann shrugs. “You will see,” he smiles and pulls up his chair to the usual spot. “Do you think they will allow me to set up a few things in here as long as it does not interfere with anything?”

“Yeah, man, go for it. Maybe they’ll let you set up one of those portable closet things, and you could bring me some of my stuff. Doc says I’m going to be in here for a while.”

Hermann laughs. “Perhaps. You discuss it with the nurses tonight and let me know tomorrow when I come in, alright?”

Newt agrees and settles in with the book that Hermann purchased from the hospital’s gift shop. It has been ages since he has read anything not work related, but he needs something to stimulate his mind in such a boring, colourless environment. Hermann relaxes into his chair as much as he can and sets about writing notes and doing other things that Newt never sees the results of.

 

And day after day, Hermann brings a new piece of equipment for Newt. By the end of Day 3, Newt catches on. “A Pons setup?” he asks incredulously when Hermann brings the head caps. “Are you sure that’s wise? With all this… this stuff hooked up to me?”

Hermann nods. “I have done extensive research about this. You will be fine, as long as we limit the use and do it during optimal hours.” Well, damn. Hermann had been so against the idea of Newt building a Pons, and now here he is enabling him to do just that. What a guy.

 

By the time they have all the equipment necessary to Drift, Newt no longer requires the medication that makes his heart go awry. He can’t walk yet, though, and since his apartment is not exactly easily accessible, he stays where he’s put. “I’m sick of hospital food,” he says one night. The nurses have long since given up on trying to kick Hermann out after visitation hours are over, especially since Newt isn’t so high-risk anymore. Hermann looks up from the small laptop he smuggled in. “They make it so awful so that you will not want to stay for so long,” he says with a smirk. “But I can bring you something if you would like. What do you prefer?”

Newt flops his head back on the pillow and throws an arm over his face dramatically. “I just really, really want a steak right now. Grilled to perfection - that’s medium, by the way - and a grilled cheese sandwich. And bacon. I miss real bacon. I’m pretty sure the stuff they’re feeding me here is like, bacon’s bastard son that no one talks about. Bacon had an affair with limp lettuce, and that’s what they’re feeding me.”

Hermann hides his face. He’s definitely not going to smile at that, nope. “You are ridiculous,” he says instead. And the next time he shows up, he brings a little takeout box and some stolen cutlery.

“Just don’t stab yourself with the knife, or the nurses will have my head,” he says wryly. He watches with a pleased expression as Newt opens the lid and his eyes light up. “You brought me steaaaak!” he grins. “I wish I could hug you right now.”

Hermann smiles gently and pats his shoulder. “Perhaps when you’re not attached to so many things,” he murmurs.

Newt lets that very not-Hermann remark slide. It’s probably because he’s in the hospital. Hermann has said a lot of very not-Hermann things since Newt’s been in the hospital.

“Hey, Herm?” he asks after he finishes his incredibly delicious meal.

Hermann looks up from his notepad. “Mmm?”

“Let’s Drift tonight.”

Of course this was going to happen. What did Hermann think would be the end result of letting Newton build a Pons? But he looks startled just the same, and after stammering for a moment, manages, “Ah- um, yes, yes, of course.” He plugs the laptop in and opens a program. “I’ll just need to work on some bits of coding to make the necessary adjustments for, ah, for all- that,” he gestures toward the various bits of wire and machinery that surround Newton as if they’re something to be ashamed of. Newt lets that slide, too, and shrugs. “Alright, sounds good to me. I finished my book this morning, by the way. Do you have something to occupy me while you do that?”

Hermann wordlessly hands him a heavy tome of a book entitled The Breach, the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and Other Cross-Dimensional Pathways. It has his name on it.

“You wrote a book? When?” Newt asks.

“Co-wrote,” Hermann corrects, and Newt sees the name of a former K-Science member next to Hermann’s. “And we have been working on this for quite some time. The closing of the Breach solidified a lot of our data, so we consolidated our research and got it published. It was released last week.”

Newt gives him A Look. “And when were you planning to tell me about it?”  Hermann shrugs. “When it came up in conversation, I suppose. Which it just did.” He chooses to ignore Newton after that in favour of his coding.

The book is as dry as Newt would expect of Hermann, but there are some actually fascinating things that he learns. So _that’s_ what Hermann was babbling about all those times in the lab when Newt really couldn’t have cared less, immersed as he was elbow-deep in kaiju whatevers.

“You think that the Breach had a bearing on the physiology of the kaiju? Not the other way around? Why didn’t you talk to _me_ about that?”

“I did,” Hermann says without breaking stride in his typing. The dude types impressively fast. Faster than Newt, who was a proper internet addict back in the day with a respectable typing speed of 83 words per minute.

“Oh,” Newt says. He doesn’t remember that part. He was probably too busy being upset with Hermann about something to pay attention to the creditable things he might have been saying. “Okay, then.” He keeps reading until Hermann mutters something along the lines of “Aha!” or “Eureka!” or some equally pretentious sciencey exclamation.

“Discover the principle of water displacement?” Newt asks facetiously. Hermann ignores his comment in favour of wordlessly turning the laptop screen toward him. Lines of code scroll down the page, but Newton takes it to mean that everything’s a go. He takes the makeshift helmet setup and eagerly places it on his head. “I’ve missed this a lot,” he says nostalgically.

“Newton, it’s only been a couple of weeks,” Hermann says, grouchy. “We’ve gone for months without the Drift.” It actually has been a couple months this time around, too, but Newt doesn’t point out that fact.

“Yeah, so you can attest to just how much it sucks,” Newt points out. “I mean, you think alcohol hangovers are bad… Drift hangovers? Man, if I’m gonna have you in my head, I’d rather actually have you _in_ my head, ya know?”

Hermann dons his own helmet and rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Newton. Initializing Drift sequence in 3… 2… 1…”

 

_The Drift is silence_

This is Newt’s favourite part: the silence. The forever chattering in his brain stops and everything is silence. They connect so quickly these days, even if the same amount of time has passed as the second time they Drifted.

 _Hey, missed you_ Newt or maybe Hermann thinks. Definitely Newt, because Hermann does not _miss_ people, most certainly not.

Newt watches Hermann’s face as the memories of Newt’s tattoos pass- that’s always his favourite part, the grimacing, for as high as Hermann’s pain tolerance for his leg is, needles are a whole different story. What’s different though, this time, is the Accident. They kinda forgot to talk about what that would mean.

Hermann goes white as a sheet as he experiences with Newt that trauma all over again, the multitude of near-deaths. Newt himself can feel his chest tightening, but he manages to hold on. Hermann, however, has a much more difficult time. It’s worse than when Newt felt the crushing defeat when all the issues with Hermann’s leg started. It’s worse than everything. Then Newt experiences the flood of worry- Hermann visiting the hospital every day, only to be turned away. Hermann bringing flowers even when he knew Newton hadn’t yet awoken. Hermann being told that Newt’s chances are getting slimmer. Hermann crying at night _Newton you weren’t supposed to see that forget that happened please_ Hermann getting the news that Newton would be fine. Hermann seeing Newton wake up and the relief flooding him so much he thinks he might cry again just from sheer joy at seeing Newton alive.

Newt latches onto that joy. _I’m glad to be alive, too,_ he thinks. _Because I can’t imagine life or death without you, Hermann Gottlieb._

Hermann startles and glances up at him, eyes shining. Reliving the emotions was particularly intense for him. He launches forward, nearly forgetting to take care of all the wires connecting him and Newt to various machines, and wraps his arms around Newton Geiszler. Newt does his best to hug him back. He enjoys the warm, happy feelings that fill the Drift and relaxes into the embrace.

_I’ve missed that, too._

They cut the Drift short because they think they hear some nurses coming, which turns out not to be true, but it’s probably for the best anyway. Newt smiles knowingly at Hermann once all the equipment is away.

 _Don’t you dare,_ resonates a particularly strong thought in the back of his mind.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Newt says aloud. But he smiles at Hermann because he _knows_ just the same.

 

Hermann brings Newt a notebook the next day. “I figured that we may as well use this time productively. This Pons is not as powerful as the one in the lab, but it will do for now. Perhaps we should begin brainstorming the ways in which we will connect the AI to-” he cuts off at the sight of Dr. Ivers in the doorway.  
“Sorry to show up so late, but I figured you would hate me forever if I didn’t make an appearance at some point,” he jokes. He has a fast food bag in one hand. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Dr. Gottlieb, or I’d have brought you some too!” he says sheepishly, gesturing with the food. He sets it down on the table next to Newt’s bed, deliberately averting his gaze from the non-medical machinery.

“I’ll go get some water, shall I?” Hermann says to try to excuse himself. Dr. Ivers tries to tell him that no, it’s okay, but Newt interjects with an enthusiastic, “Bring me one too, I’m parched!” even though there’s a full cup beside his bed. Hermann understands this to mean dismissal, and he leaves the room with a reluctant backward glance. When he returns, Dr. Ivers has already left. He sets the one cup he was holding down by Newt’s bed, next to the full cup. “What was that all about?” he asks, glancing at the door as if Dr. Ivers will return at any moment. “And you have water right next to your bed.” Newt takes the fresh cup of water. “That stuff’s been sitting for like, three hours. I just wanted something fresh?” Newt shrugs, taking a sip. Hermann gives him a look. “You know what I mean. What did he want?” he says with exaggerated patience.

“Oh!” Newt says, like a light bulb suddenly turns on in his brain. “He was just dropping off some stuff from a couple of months ago. I asked him to bring it. He’s pretty busy today otherwise he’d have stayed longer, I think.” The explanation is innocent, as is Newt’s expression. Hermann nods. “Alright,” he says, not bothering to ask what “stuff” Newton spoke of.

 

The next time they Drift, the doctor has just told them that Newt is likely two days away from the all-clear to be discharged. He will need physiotherapy for his leg, but he will be able to use it just fine and without any permanent discomfort. Newt, of course, is ecstatic. He doesn’t even care that the physio is gonna hurt like a bitch. The Drift is a quick one, mostly Hermann bouncing ideas off of Newt’s mind and writing them down in his notebook - the one that he lets Newt see, out of necessity of course - and it gets cut short when a nurse arrives. She’s known about their little set up for a while and kept it on the down low as per Newt’s request - after being assured multiple times by both Newt and Hermann that it isn’t affecting anything vital, of course. “Doctor’s coming,” she whispers. “Real quick.”  
Hermann shuts down the equipment with practiced ease and speed and they barely cover everything with a jacket before that evening’s doctor pops his head in.

“Good news!” he says enthusiastically. He has to be only a few years fresh out of medical school. He has a baby face and everything, including a South African accent that Newt thinks he could listen to for days.

Hermann and Newt raise their eyebrows in sync. “Well?” Hermann or Newt says out loud; Newt’s never sure immediately after a Drift who says what.

“You should be clear for discharge by tomorrow morning!” the doctor says enthusiastically. “We are just waiting for the results of a few tests and scans, but as far as I know, you should be a free man by noon.”

“Alright!” Newt fist-pumps in the air, heedless of the IV drip. It unceremoniously rips out of his hand, but it’s Hermann that winces at the pain. “Sorry,” Newt mumbles sheepishly.

“Provided there are no more such outbursts,” the doctor attempts to say sternly, but just smirks instead, calling into the hall for a nurse to come fix the issue.

 

\---

 

When he arrives back at his apartment, Newton wants nothing more than to dive head first onto his couch. He can’t do that, of course, but he looks longingly at it anyway.

“Shall I order us a pizza?” Hermann asks, dumping Newt’s duffel bag on the floor beside the holo. “Only if you’re paying,” Newt laughs, settling himself down on the couch as gently as possible. “I’m sure a two months in the hospital is going to put a giant dent in my paycheque.” Hermann rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters, picking up his phone and typing in the preset speed dial number.

Newt examines the bottle of painkillers they picked up at the pharmacy on the way home. “Man, these are hella strong,” he mutters. “And it says to take ‘em every four hours. And not to drive, or operate heavy machinery, or visit your mother-in-law… I don’t even _have_ a mother-in-law!”

Hermann snatches the bottle from his hand. “It does not say that,” he says indignantly, handing the bottle back after reading it. “But no motorcycling for you for a while.” He says that without thinking. Newt sees the way Hermann tenses in realization. “Sorry,” he murmurs next. “I didn’t mean-”

Newt shrugs. “It’s all good, man. But I have been meaning to ask you: whatever happened to it?” Hermann turns to face him. “Crumpled. It’s… it’s a miracle you even survived, Newton.”

Newt scoffs. “Of _course_ it is. Do you even know how much artificial material is in my leg? And don’t get me started on the surgeries I’ll probably have to have years down the road. Who knows how long it will be before I can move without help. Plus, on top of that, my rib cage was- is - cracked to hell and it hurts to breathe all the fucking time! They said just a couple of minutes more laying on the pavement and I’d… I’d be… I’d...” He drops the pills on the couch beside him and tilts his head back, struggling to control his breathing. Hermann keeps silent, and after a moment, Newt speaks again. “I’m sorry, man. I’m… I’ve just…”

Hermann is beside him almost instantaneously. Newt vaguely wonders how he could move so quickly with his bad leg. “Shh, it’s okay,” Hermann says, sitting at the edge of the couch and resting a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “It is okay. I understand.” He gestures toward his leg. “I know how you’re feeling, trust me.” Of course he does, they Drift together on a regular basis. But Newt understands that Hermann truly does empathize. He wasn’t born with a bad leg, and it wasn’t the result of a disease that he had difficulties with it. He understood the emotional upheaval that suddenly having a disability causes. So, with that in mind, Newt pulls Hermann back so that he’s resting against the couch, and then he puts his head on his shoulder. “It sucks,” he mumbles, and Hermann only nods in agreement. They stay that way until the phone rings to indicate the pizza man’s arrival at the apartment building’s entrance.

 

\---

 

Physiotherapy is a bitch. It is a bitch, and Newt hates it with all his might. Not that he has much might. He comes home after every session too exhausted to even think, let alone make himself supper or lift the phone to order takeout. He gives Hermann a key in the second week of physio after an incident that left Hermann disgruntled and Newt incredibly apologetic, despite it not being entirely his fault.

Hermann had left his key in his own apartment - his own fault, Newt likes to point out - and Newt had just finished a session and was therefore in a semi-catatonic state on the couch. Hermann knocked, phoned, and tried yelling, but there was no response. He had to go get the building manager to let him into his apartment, but that took over an hour because the manager wasn’t in at the time. So Hermann waited in the hall between their apartments with only his phone and cane and contempt for Newt. It was laughable after the fact, of course, but Hermann forced Newt to give him an extra key to his apartment - even being so kind as to give Newt an extra to his - and that was that.

Hermann must catch on to Newt’s schedule or something because he starts letting himself in at just the right times. And sometimes there’s food waiting for Newt when he comes home, but no Hermann to be seen. It’s a good arrangement for the most part. Hermann starts to spend a lot of time at Newt’s apartment, even bringing a lot of his work over and tinkering away in various corners while Newt recovers from the surgery and from physio.

 

“I think we should go back to the lab,” Newt says on an off-day (thank goodness- his leg is killing him right now, and his ribs are more than sore) one day in June. Hermann glances up sharply from his notepad.

“Y’know, get some good old-fashioned surroundings. Maybe ease me back into lecturing, too, do some summer school classes to start.” Newt chews on a slice of pizza thoughtfully. Hermann glares at him for speaking with his mouth full.

“I have actually been conferring with Dr. Ivers,” Hermann confesses tensely. “I haven’t told him anything major, but I did tell him we would like to modify one of the machines - with permission obviously, and supervision if he prefers. He said he would be delighted if we would, what was the term he used? ‘Soup up’? one of the systems.”

Newt pouts. “You talked to him without me? I thought we were in this together, man!” Hermann glares again. “I just wanted things to be in place for your return,” he snaps. “You don’t have to be involved in everything, you know.” Newt blinks, taken aback. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” he mutters, then takes the slice of pizza he knows Hermann has been eyeing, just to spite him.

“I don’t eat cornflakes,” Hermann responds primly. “They are completely devoid of nutritional value and they taste disgusting.”

“Seriously though, man, what’s wrong? You look a lot more sour than usual. Like you’ve eaten a lemon or something.”

“None of your business,” Hermann spits. Newt drops it, but risks concerned glances at him for the rest of the evening until Hermann abruptly stands up and announces that he’s going to bed.

“Do not text me,” he mutters as he leaves, thereby making Newt incredibly curious as to just What the Hell is Going On. He finds out the next day.

 

\---

 

“That chick came back?” Newt nearly shouts incredulously. “She had the nerve?” He remembers how much Hermann had been upset over that whole… Incident. Darcy, her name was, had dropped Hermann’s class not long after everything that transpired.

“I would prefer not to talk about it,” Hermann says, lips pressed in a thin line. “She has every right to use the Pons lab, since it is part of the university’s resources for students and professors. It was just poor timing that we were there at the same time.”

Newt seethes all the way to the lab - they have an appointment, apparently, that Hermann made for them last week and neglected to tell Newt about until this morning. “What if she’s there again? I’m probably going to… to…” he stops himself before something drastic comes out, like ‘strangle her’ or ‘throw her off a bridge’.

Hermann glances at him sidelong. “I am an adult, Newt, I can handle this. What concern is it of yours?”

Newt frowns. Why _is_ he concerned? No matter. It is of no consequence. “You’re my friend and she hurt you and that makes me mad,” he says, because it’s true.

 

Their Pons set-up is ready for them the moment they arrive. The day before, Hermann set up the things they would need to modify it. “Someone’s been busy,” Newt mutters. He’s mostly gotten over all the things Hermann has done without him. He _has_ been mostly incapacitated, after all.

“You didn’t tell him about Al, did you?” Newt whispers, referring to the artificially intelligent bot Hermann has been working on in his downtime at Newt’s apartment. Hermann pretends to dislike the nickname, but Newt knows he secretly enjoys it. Especially since it was named after Alan Turing, the man who invented the Turing test and who is one of Hermann’s idols.

“Of course not, what do you take me for, an idiot?” Hermann mutters. “That stays between us. I told him that the extra plugin is for recording data, which isn’t exactly a lie because it _is_ multifunctional.”

Dr. Ivers enters the lab. “Dr. Gottlieb? Ah, Newt! So glad to see you upright. Will you be back with us regularly, or…?” He asks, wringing his hands together.

Newt grins. “Hopefully soon,” he says, noticing an air of tension in the room thick enough to cut with a dull knife.

“Ah,” Dr. Ivers replies. “Well. Good to have you around.” Newt has no idea why everything is so awkward. Hermann stays quiet through the whole exchange, and insists that they’re fine without a third party to assist them now that they have been practicing for so many weeks. Dr. Ivers frowns, but acquiesces and leaves them in peace.

 

No sooner are they connected via the Drift than Newt understands.

 _How did he find out?_ He asks, concerned and upset.

 _I think you can guess,_ comes the reply right before an electrical surge blacks out the lights and violently disconnects the minds of Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated. Thanks to Amelia, Kat, and Tiger for making me stay on track and actually write this thing.


End file.
